Misplaced Disenchantment
by emilyannweasley
Summary: Clara's story begins in a vehicle, packed with forty or so other girls. She has three big questions: What happened to me? Where am I going? Am I going to die? Follow Clara's tale, a tale of friendship, love, and adventure. (technically an original story)
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1****: ****_'Everything has beauty, but not everyone sees it.' - Confucius_**

I awoke in a van, or possibly a lorry, or a truck, but definitely not a train; I would hear the _clackity clack_ of the track.

The same questions keep whirring around in my head:

What happened to me?

Where am I going?

Am I going to die?

For dying would be an awfully big adventure, I remembered from Peter Pan – A story I had once found in an old video shop. I'd read the book since then, and now it was one of my favourite tales. That and _Harry Potter_ of course, and countless others really.

What am I going on about? I don't even know anymore. Perhaps it would be wise to reapeat to myself some sure facts in order to gain a grip on my situation.

My name is Clara Evangeline Verne, my name is Clara Evangeline Verne, my name is Clara Evangeline Verne. My mother's maiden name is Carroll, my mother's maiden name is Carroll, my mother's maiden name is Carroll. Ok, what else do I know… oh yeah my age. I am fifteen years old, I am fifteen years old. Right… erm, oh – I live in London, I live in London, or at least I _lived_ in London.

This was not a good thing to think about, as is deepened my desire to know the answer to my second big question: where am I going? Because I couldn't possibly still be in London – could I? Any rational person would ask another one of these girls in the- vehicle how long we had been travelling, but I couldn't find my voice. Why couldn't I speak? I moved my lips, and made to make a sound, but at that moment the van or truck or whatever went over a huge bump in the road or track or – never mind, and knocked all the air out of my lungs as I hit the side.

The container I was in seemed to be made of metal, it felt cold and hard, and had those criss cross bumps in it that playground apparatus sometimes had. Yes, it was definitely some sort of metal – steel or aluminium probably. There was very little light, coming only from the top and bottom of what I suppose is the hatch that opened to pile all of us in here.

From what I could see all of the 'passengers' were girls, some younger than I, some older, causing my unease to grow – surely there would be only one fate for a container full of young girls. I didn't dwell on the thought, because that begged a different side to my third question: am I going to die, or worse?

There was a sound of an engine – the type of sound an old car makes when it tries to find a gear too slowly, and the noise was so loud that I almost covered my ears. The engine before was a constant rumble, one that one can feel in one's chest, but with this change in sound, the engine suddenly seemed foreign, rather than a sound my ears had grown accustomed to, as it had been before.

A girl next to me shifted her position, so that the back of her head was close to my shoulder. She smelt quite bad, her sweat and BO smelt like an Indian take away; which must be the weirdest thing I had ever thought, and I attempted to edge a little further away. I expected that I smelt similar, and didn't really want anyone else to think the same as what I had just thought of this girl. In the limited light, I guessed that she had long, blonde hair that was badly cared for – probably the result of too much straightening and curling and stuff. She wore a white vest top, with baggy jeans, or maybe those were the girl next to her's. That girls looked older than I, possibly about seventeen or eighteen. I remembered how people always thought I was younger than I actually was, because I was the second shortest in my year at school, and was quite skinny. People would sometimes comment on that, they would say things like 'ooh I wish I looked like you' or 'Do you eat, like, nothing?' or 'stop sucking in your stomach' (when I wasn't). It got annoying after a while, and I never knew what to say because I always hated the type of people that replied to things like that with 'No I'm not! I'm soooo fat!' because you can tell that they like being told how skinny they are. Being short was the most annoying. I hated fitting into no clothes in regular shops, that sold things I liked, and having to settle for kids clothes, or really small sizes that no shops ever sold, so you had to just walk around shop with your friends while searching for the 'petite' section (always round in some far off corner).

I suppose thinking about all of my little insecurities would annoy some people. The ones that think that they're 'fat' or 'too tall' but I think that a lot of people fail to recognise that every single_ real _person has insecurities, and things that they'd like to change about themselves, no matter what they look like. Why do they think make-up companies make so much money?

This worried me further: if I really _am_ going to be going somewhere where what I look like _matters_, then what if I'm not good enough. This then struck me as a terrible thing to think. Why would I want some paedophile to like how I look? But the thought of what would happen to me if I wasn't pretty enough for an organisation to (I shuddered at the thought) _make a profit_ from me? Tears threatened to fall, and I let them, silently. I'd practiced at the noble art of silent crying – I lived in a small house, and went to a large school, tears were looked down on, and easily spotted if one made a sound.

I felt the container we were all packed into (there must have been at least forty of us in there) grind to a halt, and suddenly, I began to feel slightly dizzy. It might have been the lack of food or water, I still didn't remember how long I'd been in the vehicle, and I closed my eyes. I felt like I was going to be sick. Before I could empty the condense of my stomach however, another girl beat me to it, and another started to cry. Loudly. It hurt my ears. The girls around me must have also felt the breaks, and a few of us began to open our eyes to look at the current surroundings, but nothing had changed since the last time I opened my eyes, and I wondered what I had expected to see.


	2. Chapter 2

Ok, so I forgot to add a disclaimer onto the previous chapter, so for the record I don't own anything to do with The Chemical Garden Trilogy. (And for any times when I mention any other book series or tv series or whatever, I don't own those either)

Also, if anyone was wondering, this story is an AU story, and although is similar in parts to the Chemical Garden Trilogy, was created before I read _Wither_. I put the story into this category because the story has some similarities to the CGT. So really I shouldn't need to put in a disclaimer as I don't use the characters (or is that not how it works? Idk.) ANYWAAAAY… let's finally get back to the story!

**Chapter 2 – **

**There are things known and things unknown and in between are the doors. - Jim Morrison**

The vehicle had stopped, and so had my brain. I couldn't think straight. I tried to look around so that I could detect any change in my environment; perhaps we were going to be let out? No change came, neither did any movement outside the container, so I remained sitting. I sat with my knees up, hugging them, and my head down. When this eventually became uncomfortable, I tilted my head back, then returned to the same position. This was no place to be worrying about comfort. My hair was in a matted fishtail plait, for practicality I suppose before I was captured. I must have been captured, because surely I would not walk into this filthy truck willingly? This caused me to again ask my first question to myself: _What happened to me_?

After what seemed a very long time, possibly a few hours - two at the least, the crack of light hovering over the ceiling of the container widened, and I gazed up at it, like it was some sort of magical force that changed in front of me, like a rare apparition. I then remembered the hatch, and that it must be opening for the line of light to grow. I could hear chains being pulled through something, and my mind flew to images of drawbridges, castles and princesses. However I quickly reminded myself that what is coming is not going to be castles and princesses; more like a sort of shanty town probably. As the light entering the container expanded, my eyes could not adjust fast enough and reflexes forced me to squint and hold my arm up over my brow. I retreated away from the opening; a stupid thing to do. Why would I want to stay in this box, when the escape route was so close? My instincts were faster than my brain: I bared my teeth. '_You are not some sort of feral child, Clara!' _I thought, '_act like you should, show no emotion. Be a stone wall against whatever happens! Did those books teach you nothing? Be brave! Come on are you a Gryffindor or not!?' _

Once my eyes had finally adjusted, I looked straight at the men that must have been my captors. There were five of them. '_easy' _I thought, '_we could take them down without any problems, it would be more than thirty against five! What are we waiting for?' _ I looked around at the expressions on my fellow prisoners. The range of emotions shown on the faces I saw showed a clear message, only one other was thinking the same as I. She had red hair, darker than most though. She had it in a plait to the side, but the hair tie had gone missing. I supposed that she hadn't washed her hair for a long time, and it had just stayed in the plait. Her fringe was all over the place, it was well past her eyes, and so she kept making futile attempts to sweep it to the sides by flicking her head, but the sweat on her forehead caused it to stick. We both looked at each other, and as her brown eyes met my blue, an agreement was made: we would both go through what was coming through us as warriors.

As her determined gaze left mine, the men at the hatch began to open it further, so that they could climb in. All of the prisoners backed away, leaving me at the front of the group. I felt small, or smaller than usual at least, and as I pushed against the girl behind me, the closest man took the arm of the girl next to me, then the girl next to her, and led them out of the truck. The men wore grey uniforms, ill-fitting and most were unbuttoned at the top for relief from the heat of the day. We definitely weren't in London anymore; it must have been at least 23oC, and it was so _bright _outside. I knew that I would be the next to be taken out of the truck (for I could see that it was not just a van now). A spasm of fear took over my mind, and I was once again reminded of one of my questions '_am I going to die?_'

The light outside was blinding, and my eyes couldn't adjust for what felt like an age. The hand around my wrist was course and so strong. I tried to pull away, to do anything that could allow me time to make a move against my captors, to no avail. Instead the grip grew tighter, and I was reminded of another thing: I am weak; puny; a stick. What could I possibly do to escape? I tried to remember those self-defence lessons I was given at the age of eleven… oh, yeah, I faked being sick on those days. After mentally kicking myself I looked up at my surroundings. All that was visible around me was scrubland: the occasional tree of thorns; dry, long, scratchy grass; and lots of gravel.

Great.

They were lining us all up now, I saw the red-haired girl with the plait being dragged out of the truck. She looked about my age, a bit taller than me, and she was putting up a fight. She tugged at the guy pulling her along, and eventually he'd had enough: he kicked the side of her knee, and it gave way. She was bleeding, and as she fell to the floor, he dragged her to attempt to stand next to my in the line. I looked around to the side at her; she leaned over a bit to hold where she was bleeding, then straightened up. I was right, she was about a head taller than me, and I pushed my eyebrows together at her as if to say '_you alright?' _ she replied with a long blink, and looked away, back at the guy who kicked her with a glare, and I took that as a yes.

Eventually, after a mix of those who resisted, those who tried to run away (swiftly caught), and those who seemed to be either too weak to care about the goings-on of the real world, or had just lost hope, were stood in line. The number of us made it a very long line, and half my dehydrated mind was thinking up an escape plan, however I then noticed the other vans. They were smaller than the truck that had taken us here, and I wondered then what was inside them. My thoughts flew to pictures of _Chitty Chitty Bang Bang's_ Child Catcher, which I quickly dispelled in order to attempt to hatch a plan on how to come off best from this situation.

Suddenly the doors to the vans opened, and out piled two or three men from each van. I realised that there was now no possible exit through which to make my escape. They all gathered in a group, and one man stood in the middle and was speaking, as if going over rules in a football match, or to introduce a child's game. I couldn't hear what they were saying because they were too far away, and so I looked to the girl on my other side to the redhead. She looked possible about thirteen years old, a little taller than me but that came to no surprise. The girl was wearing a small dress, that in my opinion was much too short, and I would never be seen wearing it. The peachy orange of it clashed with her blonde hair, and I supposed maybe she was captured at a party or something along those lines. I couldn't remember the last big party I went to, besides a street party to celebrate a royal wedding, but I couldn't remember any faces, nor picture the royal couple.

Saddened, I looked back at the group of men about fifty metres away. They had stopped listening to the man in the middle, and were turning to make their way towards us. I elbowed the redhead with my right arm, who was looking behind her at one of the 'guards' (I presumed that's what they were). She made to look at me, but caught sight of the group that were quickly advancing. They were snakes, zoning in on their prey, tasting the air as they went.

They all stood in front of us, looking. None of them seemed to cross a sort of invisible barrier, and then suddenly

'I'll have that one'

Suddenly the crowd erupted into a huge auction. The sudden outburst of shouting came at such a shock to my ears that I thought I had never heard something so load in my entire existence.

Hands were pointing, and flying in all directions, and girls were now having bands tied around their ankles and being pushed into the new arrival's vans. Three went within the first thirty seconds of the bidding. Money was being handed over by their new owners to the guards in grey. Suddenly the blonde girl to my left went, but I hadn't even realised that anyone was bidding for her. She went gladly, a little too gladly might I ask, and I wondered whether she just wanted to get away from the chaos. I did, but only because I worried what would happen to me if I didn't. I didn't linger on this thought.

A large, stout, grey haired man wearing a blue shirt and smartish black trousers, only just not falling down stepped up to the front of the group, as the man who took blondie walked away with his group of no less than five other girls. He had the top two buttons of his shirt undone, and the sleeves messily rolled up, half of his shirt was hanging out as well, due to his large stomach. The wideness of his lower body contrasted greatly against the smallness of his red face, which was covered by a patch of grey hair. He seemed to glare at the whole row of the remaining girls, (reduced greatly to probably about twenty now), and sis eyes rested on someone.

'That one, the one with the blue dye in its hair.' He called, pointing at a girl five away from my left. The girl was held still by one guard, as another tied a band like a hospital bang around her ankle. Her buyers name was written on the band, but unlike the other buyers, no one asked what it was. He then continued to glare (maybe it was just his permanent expression) across the row of prisoners from the other end of the row, while the blue haired girl was guided into his van.

Next he demanded a closer look at a girl; probably about my age, maybe a little older. Instead of refusing the demand, like with the other men, the guards made sweeping gestures from the man to the girl. He slowly moved towards her and seemed to sort of- inspect her: looking at her shoulders, hips and breasts, but not really in a perverted way, but in the way a doctor looks at a patient; clinical and cold. He must have thought that what he saw was acceptable, because soon she was being carted into the van with the blue-haired girl. She didn't even protest against them, she just stared at the ground all the way to the vehicle. She looked like the time around her was going really fast, and she couldn't keep up. I think I must look like everything is going too slowly, and that I am managing to think of too many things in what must be normal time in reality, out of my whirring mind.

The next person he saw was the remaining girl next to me – the red haired girl. Even though we'd never said a word to her, I felt as if we had formed some sort of alliance, but not like the hypocritical alliances of the pre First World War years in Europe, but a proper, brave and proper alliance, like one out of King Arthur's time. I was saddened when the men began to advance onto her. They must not have haggled for her, like with the other girls, but they might've, I just didn't notice. It's surprising how much you don't notice when you are not paying attention to the real world, but I always thought that imagination is far more exciting.

Soon they were closing in, and suddenly she lashed out. She was all claws, elbows and fists, but not even in a brutal way. The way she moved was gracefully lethal. She was going to make a break for it. I could tell. Her feet were positioned for a huge burst of speed – her knees bent, her head leaning forward as she threw her weight into a low punch to the ribs. And just as soon as she struck, she was off. Away. Running. Fast. There was no stopping her… That is until seven of the guards did. She was carried kicking silently back to the van, and the doors were slammed shut.

I was considering my loss of an ally, when I realised that the man that chose the red haired girl was still scanning the row of the remaining girls. Most of the other buyers had gone now, driven away with their new property. I never imagined that I could find myself in a position like this; I was one of the last left. I was reminded of my three questions. Mostly the last one – am I going to die? I supposed that if I wasn't chosen then… I'd just be kept until the next time? I should probably learn to become more observant while pondering about my predicament, because the next time I come fully to my senses, I realise that the man has chosen another girl to go into his van:

Me.


	3. Chapter 3

Ok, here's the next chapter! I'm really getting into this. I realise that some people don't like to see AU fics on here, so does anyone know where I could post this? Don't worry, I'll keep posting this one on here and on that site, so I won't go away until the story's finished! You'll just have to put up with me. Mwahahah!

**Chapter 3**

**_"Without fear there cannot be courage." _**

_― Christopher Paolini_

I was frozen in time. Everything was in slow motion. Even my blink was slow. My emotions were on hold, with the terrible music distracting them from functioning correctly. Maybe that was a good thing.

They were grabbing my ankles now, and that wasn't acceptable. I kicked – hard. His nose was bleeding now, and the other had been wacked in the face from when I flung out my arm to keep my balance. They'd never take me alive. Or, well they probably would, actually. There was no denying that I wasn't the most powerful of people. I was still whacking, scratching and bashing at them, two were bleeding now, and I congratulated myself. But then one of them grasped my neck, and I felt his course hands and fingers dig into my jugular and suddenly I couldn't breathe. Hit hands hurt my neck, but it didn't matter. There was no point in using the little oxygen that remained in my lungs not making any effort to change my situation, but my movements were slowing, and before I knew it there was no ground, only sky, but still no air with which to breathe.

I was drowning in the air.

Then out of nowhere there was pain. In my bum, and that's the worst place ever to crash down on, because it means it hurts to sit down. I bet that if anyone could hear my thoughts at that moment, they would probably think I'd make some sort of inappropriate comment there, well no. Ha.

The door slid sideways and with a slam there was nothing but an ache where I'd hit the floor. It felt scratchy and carpeted beneath me, but as my eyes adjusted to the small amount of light allowed entrance through a crack in the ceiling, I could see that I wasn't alone.

The other girls that the guy had chosen; blue hair, red hair and the girl that was in a daze from before were all in here with me. It hit me that we all must look very different, and that possibly I was the least good looking one, because I was chosen last. Would this have any effect on my fate?

A couple minutes, or hours, or possibly several days passed before somebody spoke.

'I didn't catch your name.'

It was the red haired girl. I felt like I shared with her some sort of pact, or maybe just an understanding, so I replied 'Clara, Clara-' But I couldn't remember any other names. I knew that another should follow, but what? I sat there in the dark for a little while, and suddenly looked up to see that the blue haired girl was glaring at me. 'What?' I asked.

'You can remember your name?'

'Erm… yeah. Why? Can't you?' She didn't answer, and I assumed that that meant that she, like me, was scouring her brain for any name that could be associated with her. 'I can't remember my other names'

'Other names?' The redhead was speaking now, and the quiet on shrank into the corner some more. She sat in a sort of foetal crouch, leaning against the wall of the van.

'Yeah, you know… there's supposed to be another name… a, erm…' There _had_ to be a proper name for a name, surely?

'No, I don't know.' She interrupted my thoughts, and I was not in the mood for her to speak to me as if I was the bad guy, or that I was keeping something from her.

'Could you not? You know, not talk to me like that please? What did I do?'

'Nothing. You did nothing' she replied with poison lacing her words.

'What was I supposed to do?'

'Oh, I don't know, break us out of here? You were the last person to be chucked in here, and now the door's closed.'

'I'd repeat my question, but I don't think it's be wise to waste what little oxygen there is in this godforsaken van.'

'Oh, haha you're so clever.'

'Oh, stop it, both of you!' interjected the ginger. She wasn't looking at me though, so I guessed she thought I wasn't to blame – mostly. We all stayed silent for a moment, then she continued 'Do you think we're going to move anytime soon?'

'They're probably just paying for us.' I replied, almost whispering. I was annoyed, confused, and scared. Yeah, very scared, But I wouldn't let on to anyone. Fear gets you nowhere. Especially where there's no conceivable way of either fight, nor flight.

The girl in the corner still hadn't spoken, and I suddenly felt bad for our outbursts. She probably didn't want to hear anything we were saying, least of all my latest words. I tried not to look at her, in case she didn't want that, or maybe she did? Maybe she wanted some attention? What if she didn't? After the exuberant amount of questions that were piling up like Everest inside my head, I decided against talking to her, feeling that if she wanted attention, she'd have to speak up.

Just then, a door slammed with a click, the truck wobbled a bit, and an engine started behind me. We were moving now, and we all slid to the right hand side of the container as we turned round sharply and with speed to the left. The girl in the corner shrunk away from the blonde; the one in the ugly dress, and with a glare, and a sort of disgusted, aloof sound, blondie shifted far away, to the other side of the van, as we sped away.

There was a dusty window on one of the doors to the van, which let in a bit of light, but it was impossible to see properly through the glass. If we had something hard enough though, we'd probably be able to break through it and escape! I glanced around at the people sharing the space, and beckoned silently to Ginger.

'I didn't catch your name?' I asked

'not really the time, is it?' She paused, and I just looked at her, expressionless – as if she hadn't said anything. 'Anabelle – but just call me Ana.'

'two 'n's' right?'

'No, just the one.'

We both ignored the incredulous faces staring at us both.

'right. I'm Clara. How do you s'pose we can break through this?'

'We don't.' she replied. 'We wait for the opportune moment, but first we'd need to find something to do it with.'

'Thant's what I meant. And why not now?'

'I have a feeling that wherever they're taking us, they want us there alive, and that leads me to believe that they'll feed us at some point. So we break the glass-'

'Shhhhh!' said blondie.

'Shush yourself.' I spat. She was really getting on my nerves – no one should just be bitter against someone like she had to the quiet girl, without even having talked to her before. I could have said a few things I thought about the colour of her knickers (fluorescent green and lace? Really?). 'Why don't we use her shoes?' I suggested, looking at her heels.

'Don't. Even. Think about it.' She shot, each pause like she was waiting for the acid to corrode my skin. She could wait all she liked – no effect whatsoever.

I wasn't in the mood to push it. 'What then?'

'I don't know. Let's have a look and see if we could gradually push it out of something.'

So we looked, and all we could see was a part where it was coming slightly away from the inside of the door.

'ok, we can work with that'

'The question is, how long have we got to do that?'

I was lost. There was no ground to stand on, so how could I begin to walk into escaping? Is there a way that you can escape from being lost, to being less lost, but perhaps lost in a whole different way?

My three questions were back: one had been temporarily answered; I wasn't probably going to die – for now, the second; well, that was still unknown, the first; there was no time to dwell on that one.

'We need to escape though!'

'At the right time!'

'I have an idea.' It was the girl with the blue hair. I think we should wait until they stop the van, feed us maybe, then the shut the door. But, they wouldn't be expecting a belt to be in the hinge would they?'

'no, 'course not'

'So one of us puts a belt in the hinge, they half shut the door, and we gradually work out how to open it all the way from there.'

There was a pause, when everyone truly considered this plan. And then:

'That might actually work, y'know.' Said Ana. 'I have one thing to add to it though, once we've opened the door, we wait until we see some sort of sign of something so that we have any idea where other people are.'

'Deal.' Blue and I chorused.

And so the plan was set.


	4. Chapter 4

_ A/N I went a bit crazy while writing this chapter... it sort of went off on weird tangents. I hope you like the chapter anyway, i think that the obscureness of some of the things here demonstrate how tired and hungry Clara is. If you think it works, or if you think it really doesn't fit for her character, then please say so so that I can rethink the fifth chapter, which is already in motion. Hoping to get it up soon, however i have exams coming and so writing time is limited. This is quite a long chapter, i wanted to get lots done in it! enjoy (I hope)! x_

**Chapter 4**

**We feel free when we escape - even if it be but from the frying pan to the fire.**

**Eric Hoffer**

I, being the second smallest, but much older than the actual smallest, sat at the foot of the door: my eyes trained on the thin slit of light that breathed through into the van as our only lifeline. My job was to keep out of sight at the right moment, then slide the end of Blue's belt into the hinge of the door. Hopefully, it would stop the door from properly closing, and would allow us to make a run for it. The rest would then huddle close to me, so as to make it look like we were scared and huddling like penguins away from the cold.

After what could only have been a few hours the light was dimming, and we were all huddling close together, now from the real cold that had set in. The van was still rumbling away along bumpy ground, and so were our stomachs. There is being peckish, then there's hunger, then there's real hunger, and what we were feeling was closer to real hunger rather than the exaggerated one people overuse.

How long since food?

How long until food?

Food?

Food's a funny word. Fooooooooood. Who thought of the word food? Why is it called food? Why not, 'Numpy nom nom stuff yum'?

'What?' It was Blue. I had said 'numpy nom nom stuff yum?' out loud. Her voice was croaky from lack of water, and I realised that mine sounded the same. Even dwelling on the thought of any type of edible anything was an exertion of energy, and I was shivering already anyway.

'erh, nothin''

Silence, apart from a low brumbahdrrumrumb of the engine.

I need food or I will completely lose my mind.

Who am I?

That's one of the questions that many people think they can answer. The truth was very few of them really do know, they just think that their name is who they are, where they live and who their parents are. So I know one of those. Sure, I know my mother's name before she got married, but who to? My father? Who was he? A person is not their name, it is how they are, and why. So who am I? I suppose I am lost. Lost from the people that I have distant, obscure memories of, that wizz around my brain, flitting in and out from behind trees, daring only to be seen for just enough time for my brain to recognise that something is there. Like a rabbit in the autumn, darting into its burrow from fear of detection by a predator. So which of the two am I? Am I the rabbit or the hawk? I hope neither, but something.

But wait, I could have sworn the not too long ago, maybe a day ago, I could remember more. There used to be a full name, where now only one remained. There used to be a place, now just a vision of grey. There used to be more. Why not still? There are too many questions, and too little information to supply any evidence of ever have known the answers. Is it possible to know something, but not know you know it, and then when you have need of the thing, you remember that you do know it? Is it possible to forget something you know you know when you need it? Is the brain like a poorly organised filing cabinet, that everyone is putting of reordering? If so, what does my filing cabinet look like now? Has it fallen over? Or has it gone on holiday to Australia, where Alice said the people waked upside down?

I'm not sure asking more questions is the best way to figure out, or at least distract from, my situation – especially when I can't remember the last time I ate.

Sleep came, and when it did it was welcome, and I was too tired to dream, and I was too hungry to want to, and I was too thirsty to care.

I awoke suddenly to Ana shaking me by the shoulders.

'Hey!' How can someone seem to be shouting but actually are whispering? 'Hey, wake up! We've stopped.' It was true, we had indeed stopped. She pulled me a bit towards the side of the van, and we both crouched there with the others. I was to be closest to the van doors to keep to the plan, Blue was by my side, and the others huddled close to her, looking frightened. Beside us, on the other side of the van wall, we heard voices:

'Waddaya say we just throw is at 'em, and see what happens?' This voice was high pitched for a male, and I pictured some weedy guy with little hair, and a huge long red nose.

'Are you really as brain dead as you look? We can't do that, they'll look a mess when we get there, and then it'll be us in the back, on our way to hell.' This one was deeper, and much more threatening, but still, not particularly clever-sounding.

'At least it'd be warm – it's fuckin' freezing.' The first one muttered 'And anyway, they're a mess already. How about givin' them a small bit, and then seeing them beg for more?'

'shut it.'

So we waited. And we heard their footsteps behind us. And they were at the doors. And blue took off her belt and gave it to me and I sat on it. And their hands were on the doors. 'You got the stuff?' grunted the bigger sounding one.

'Yeh.'

'Oi, you lot better be away from those doors. We're armed if you try making any moves. Gottit?' We all assumed he was addressing us in the van, and none of us spoke. 'OK. One, two, three—' He opened the door whose hinges we had been so relying on, and cringed away from the shocking light that felt like some unearthly beauty, welcoming us to our possibly only chance of escape. I had my hand on the belt, and being very close to the hinge, slotted it into the hinge in a movement that looked like I was trying to shuffle away from the door, like I was using the wall to push myself away. The belt remained hidden from sight.

The door was only open for a matter of seconds, and in those seconds a box and a bottle were thrown in. The box rattled and sounded like there was plastic inside it, the bottle cracked as is hit the floor, but no liquid spilled, I suppose it was just the plastic crunching from the impact. As soon as they hit the floor of our prison, the door slammed shut.

As most of us sat stock still to try and make out any footsteps leaving the back of the van, and back into the cab, Blondie leapt towards the food, and started shaking the box and trying to see what it kept hidden from us. The box contained some sort of biscuit or flatbread, 12 to be exact, and the bottle held water, but there was nowhere near enough for us all to have as much as we all wanted, and needed. The belt was still in the hinge, but the van hadn't started moving yet. Why were we not moving? So many questions, so few answers. Was that line familiar? Maybe they'd gone to the toilet. I definitely needed to. I think I might have in the first van… embarrassing… well, everyone else must've! I mean, surely… right?

I moved over to the doors, grudgingly averting my gaze from the food. There was a small crack in the shut door where there wasn't before – so far so good. The doors had slammed shut hard, but it seems the belt is fine, and the doors are only just latched. Ana came up behind me, and nodded when I pointed at the crack. Our plan was working. We listened hard to hear what was going on outside, the small amount of visibility outside not enough to see the two men, but enough to see our surroundings. We were on a tarmacked road, and on either side of it were talk trees mounting up a very steep hill, and a sign warning floods. There was no noise of any other cars going past, and soon we heard that two men trudge back to the cab. Their doors slammed, and as soon as we had stopped, we lurched, and my head banged against the door, swinging it wide open.

Ana only just caught me by my T shirt, as my head wacked hers, pulling us both back into the van. The door was hanging open, and we tried to hold it there. Had they noticed?

My head was bleeding, and the blood dripped down my face, neck, and onto my exposed shoulder. I held the cut, and blood covered my fingers. It didn't hurt much, and the blood was like paint. I'd paint an apple. I could do with an apple. Ana was saying something to me, but I was mesmerised. I licked my hand, it tasted… good? Well I suppose anything would. The metallic taste lingered, and then it was gone. I looked up, my eyes meeting the faces of my fellow prisoners, and there can only be one word for how they all looked. Weirded out. I shrugged, and Ana motioned for Blue to hold the door while she used her sleeve to mop up the blood from my forehead. It stung, and I winced every time the wrist of her hoodie was pushed to my skin.

I pushed her away, whispering 'No, I'm fine, really.', and we both turned to Blue, who was still holding the doors, with Blondie on the other one. Huh, we didn't even have to ask her. Maybe Blue did.

We all sat there, as time matched the roll of the ground away from us and we watched it. We all stared at the black ribbon running so very fast out from underneath the van, and then gradually slowing down. It felt as if the ground was moving, not us. And we stayed there. Still. All of us breathing in unison, and the road moving, and the doors swinging. It was there: our escape. But none of us made it. Was I scared? No. Was I bleeding? Yes, but that's not the point. The truth was that at that point none of us was ever going to jump, until: 'why aren't we jumping?' It was the little girl that hadn't spoken yet. Her voice was so small, like she was in a dream, only just awake. It was beautiful. This little girl, probably no more than eight years old, now that I saw her face properly, was the only that made me do it.

I leapt. I leapt like I was a leopard, flying through the air, hands in front of me and eyes looking straight ahead. Right behind me was Ana; I heard her thump crash down beside me after I landed. Then I was running back towards the van, reaching out for the girl. Blue jumped and landed on her side, and as Ana helped her to her feet, the van was rolling fast away from me, and my legs were numb from all the inactivity. It was like I could run for miles and miles, but the legs that carried me tripped and stumbled underneath me from the speed that I was trying to keep. Ana was fast, faster than me, and as she ran alongside me we both matched each other in pace – our feet slamming against the ground simultaneously. Both our arms were paddling up through the air, and then reaching for the back of the van, and then I was holding only Ana's top as she held onto to metal, and Blondie's shoes had come off, and she rolled out of the back, hitting Ana and knocking her grip, but I helped push her back, and then both of us were trying to show the girl that we'd catch her – help her – hold her – that she would be safe, and away from the van. She was backing away, and I was desperate; she couldn't stay there. Too innocent, too perfect, her dark hair flying madly around her in the buffeting of the air. I screamed above the roar of the wind and the engine and my own heavy breathing 'PLEASE!'. And with the realisation of what I had just done, I was surprised the trees flying past didn't all stop immediately. Instead they slowed at the same rate as the van.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: suffering from a bit of writers block right now. I know what happens after this chapter, but not entirely what will happen in this chapter. I think that the words should sort of write themselves, and they are once this chapter is done. Clara and the girls have spent an awful long time being transported, and I would like that to stop soon because it's getting tedious. Any who, I hope you enjoy this chapter all the same PLEASE REVIEW! **

**Chapter 5:**

The van was stopping, and the trees were too. I had to get the girl away, and I had to get the others away, and I had to get myself away. Just away. It didn't even matter where the away was, just so long as it was. Ana had the little girl in her arms, and I signalled to run towards the trees. Running. There's something about running when you have nothing inside you to give you any energy, like you are flying but you really shouldn't be, like you are riding on a plane powered by a bicycle in the highest gear. Up a hill. There was no time for thinking though. There was no energy to spare for it now. We were all scattering into the trees; me, Ana with the girl, Blue, Blondie: the lost girls flying to Neverland.

The trees encapsulated us, welcoming us, and rushing us away from our wheeled prison. Duck, jump, sprint, don't trip... there was no rhythm, and I loved it. Ana had set the girl down, unable to battle through the undergrowth with her in her arms. Had caught up in that time, and we were now all sprinting through the trees, like deer running from a wolf pack, with Ana holding onto the girl's hand. We had no idea where Blue or Blondie were, but we could tell that they were ahead of us. Suddenly, Ana tripped over, and we all jerked to a stop, sliding along for a bit on the loose leaves and dirt on the ground. Ana didn't get up, something was wrong. What was wrong? I crouched next to her 'C'mon, Ana, we've got to keep going.'

'I know.' She panted 'My foot, something's wrong.'

'Can you stand?' I begged. And she did, wobbling, and visibly not putting lots of weight on her left foot.

'Yeah.' She replied. Even though she had just showed me so.

Suddenly, there was a snap, and a grunt, not 100 yards behind us. They were chasing us, and they were close, Ana's fall had cost us valuable time. The girl looked at me, her expression a mix of terror, and determination. I pulled her along through a dense holly bush; loud, but it would make us invisible, for what escapee would try to hide within thorns – practically wearing the spikes? Well it was very painful, and tore my clothes, but I would have done anything to save us at that point. With our chasers so close, we would have never stood a chance of outrunning them now.

They'd caught up now, and our breathing was loud. Too loud. I stifled my own,. And made movements to the others to do the same, when a loud ripping noise came from under my arm, with a sharp, drawn pain along my ribs. My top hade caught on the holly, and had torn so much that my inflamed, bleeding skin was clearly visible. That was surely the end. We were caught. Until Ana got up and made to get out of the bush. The man closest ran straight for us. We were never going to make it. He grabbed for my top, ripping it more under the strain of his course fingers. His hand was gripping the slashed side, and it grew all the way down, until he was just holding onto to ends of fabric, and I pulled away. Again we were off. Ana's foot seemed to be holding her back from all out sprinting, but we were still going pretty fast. My hand still holding the girl's, it was difficult for her to jump over roots, and she shouted to me 'I can run!' The first thing I had ever heard her say.

They had fallen behind us, and we were still going – did the trees never end? Where were we?

Ana fell again, her foot was causing her to nearly cry out with every step, and I could see that she would if it would not give away our position. Still, she got up once more, and we continued. We were slowing down considerably anyway, lack of food or water was slowly killing us. I could tell…

I was hopeless, with every step we took our chasers must be taking three. It was so hopeless, in fact, that they had caught up again, and we were losing ground – more and more of their figures could be seen through the trees with each second. We were too slow. I kept looking back, which only slowed me down more. When we were caught – for it was inevitable now, I'd never let them get the little girl. She had to escape. Had to.

And then he was about three meters from Ana, and I gave her a tug before he grabbed her arm on the backswing, and now it was about four meters, then it was me that was behind, and the girl pulled me over a dip, and it was still 4 meters, then she went through a bush – thorns to the face, and stumbled, it was 3 meters, then 2, then we jumped, then 3, then 2 after an unexpected root, then 1 after then missed it, then there was a yank to my head, and I had fallen backwards, there was a tree trunk in my back, and it was all over. I tried to get back up, to be meted with a foot in my stomach, so the stupid guy had caught up. 'CLARA!' it was Ana. She was coming towards me. Upside down. And an arm was around her waist, and she jerked forwards, and was being dragged backwards away from me. Back from whence we came. I tried to get up again, anything I could do to save them would be something. I tried, and when I did, my legs were suddenly on fire, but still like lead; Strapped into a furnace, making my skin bubble and peel in the flames the licked my very bones. Ana was caught now, and her struggles were sloppy and weak, almost slow in a very fast way. And there was the girl, standing behind a tree like a rabbit caught in the headlights. She took a big step forward towards me, and she was quickly spotted by one of the men. He advanced on her quickly, smiling – grinning. 'RUN!' I screamed, and the croak stung the back of my throat. But she didn't move. She stared at me, and the fire left my legs to leap into her brown eyes, and although she looked so strong, brave, defiant, she was still small, scared, and a child.

She was no match.

He shorter guy lifted her up, her legs and arms flailing and slapping and hitting, until hi flopped her over his shoulder, her jaw hitting his back and her lip with such force that her mouth began to bleed profusely. Next it was me, and I felt thick fingers digging into my spine as I was lifted up off the ground. I didn't even try to fight. If I fought, it wouldn't get me anywhere, and I was too weak to even lift the weight of my leg, and the little girl would be where I am being taken, and I could never just leave her now. Ana was being dragged by her ankle along the forest floor, picking up dirt clods and twigs. She'd hit her head as they threw her down, just before I was picked up. Sleeping in a forest sounds so nice, poetic, even. But if anyone saw us now…

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

The trek back to the van was long and laborious for my battered heart to keep pumping life to my body – being upside down for so long sent the blood to my lips, making them and my hands swell. Ana had woken, but was still half under when we got to the van. Her voice was slurred – drunk on failed escapism. 'Yooou mnstrs' Was all she had said for a while, or some variation of that.

The doors were slammed shut, and our belt was gone – as was the food and water. I fell asleep. Standby. No one had unplugged me yet, though.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

I awoke, still in a van, or a truck, but not a train.

The doors were opened sharply, two bundles were thrown in, four doors were slammed, and we began to move once more.

I looked up very slowly, on realising that the bundles were not bundles, but people. And that they were both soaking wet. I didn't have the energy to ask why, and it looked like they wouldn't to answer. So I let it be.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

My eyes opened again, hunger pains keeping me half awake, drifting in and out of a reality that seems more nightmarish than anything could possibly, plausible, ever be, surely? There was now no vibration underneath me of the van, but still movement. A faint shudder of combustion, an engine noise far away, and a sudden feeling of lost balance. Maybe I was feeling dizzy from lack of calories? Well, yeah. That would have made sense. If it were not for the fact that the world was not twisting as it should do if that were the case. No… we were still moving… but what on? What could carry a van, without toppling over everyone inside it around? What could be big enough? Earth didn't move. What if it was some huge creature, and we were on its back? But that would probably toss us around more by flexing muscles and joints. A bird? A huge bird? It surely couldn't be a fish – the water would come in…

_'Boat'. _It was Blue. Her voice was so tiny, whispered, it probably took everything from her to say that one short word. I definitely couldn't have done it. But what was a boat?

A flicker of information, like a fact file fluttered through my head. Just like a name that was no longer even that. A boat was a water vehicle. It could be big or small. Wood or metal. Suddenly new information crawled towards me, as I kept thinking about the subject… _polyester resin_ – a polymer used to make boats, but also car bodies that was a thermosetting polymer. Which meant that once moulded under heat, more heat would not affect it. A polymer was a long or short chain of different monomers. Which were different depending on the properties the material had.

All that information was too much, and I once again fell under sleeps spell, letting the slow movement of the water beneath me lull me.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

_"Even just seconds ahead is unknown; even just seconds after is open to infinite possibilities." _

_― Mehmet Murat ildan_

I was dead. Or at least to the world I was. My pulse still crept through my body. My eyes still detecting light. That is until I closed them. Too weak to use those tiny muscles.

We seemed to still be rocking, but I had no gauge of the time for which we'd been doing so. I don't think days. I'd not have the ability to speak. Or breathe. It had definitely been a very long time though. How far from- wait. Where did I start? There was a truck, then sand, then van, then swaying. There must have been something before the truck… I'll think about that later. If there is a later.

What I did think about was my new friends. I thought about what they were like. And that even though we'd been together for no more than 3 days, I think that I'd miss them when I did go. Which would probably be soon. I thought of Blondie: her yellow blonde hair, her height (very tall!) that meant that if she stood up completely and I looked straight ahead I would probably be looking just below her boobs. So hopefully won't be doing that any time soon. Probably won't get the chance. She was a bit vain, we saw that while working out our escape plan. Then there was Blue. I like Blue. She was still quite tall… probably around 5'7" or 8"… I don't know. Next was Ana. There was something about Ana that I really admired. Maybe it was her bravery, or that I just thought she was everything I wish I was. For one thing, she was taller than me, but no loads like Blue or Blondie. She was brave, and loyal, and loving, but still could fight for herself too. I was two of those things, I supposed, but not as much as her. If I was braver I would have got up, and maybe helped her and the little girl… I still didn't know her name… maybe she couldn't remember it like Blue or Blondie… maybe I just never asked. That was mean of me… Here she sat, with her head on my chest (comfortable for her I guess, but it ached a little) and her eyes closed, and her breathing shallow. God, she was barely holding on. Her lips were really pale, almost blending in with her dark skin. She probably had roots in India, or Bangladesh or something. So far away. Or maybe not so far… Ana was on her left side, me on her right, and she seemed to be hugging both of us, but Ana with her legs in her lap and me her arms on the side of my thigh. She clung loosely onto the rip in my jeans with her little fingers, the only muscles she seemed to be using.

In the distance there was a siren, the noise muffled and faint. Then a lot of clanging: the noise of metal dragging on metal, with a clicking as well. Two huge bangs, one to my side, and the other 11 o'clock from where I sat. with each of the two bangs, the van shuddered, and bounced a little. Then there was a low rumbling, and the floor I sat on began to shudder, and we were moving again. The little girl's head left my chest, and then once we picked up a little speed, crashed back down, and I winced just a little. I felt sick; hunger and movement combined gave me a headache beyond belief, and I knew that if I opened my eyes the world would spin.

So we were still going? Had we just crossed a lake, cove, sea or ocean? What was the scale? Was had our speed and time been?

I woke up again, in the same position as before, felling the girl's weight shift away from me. She must have been awake. Suddenly there was light coming through my eyelids, and small veins faintly showed in my vision. Then there was a force around my ankle, then pulling as I was dragged out of the van. I didn't move against the force. There was no way I could have made any difference. My head was held just before it fell too far, as I came off the edge of the van floor. Why were they not hurting me? Hitting me? They carried me by my wrists and ankles and let me down on a smooth floor. It was warm here, and I could almost feel the sun reaching my skin. Then I felt a whimper, and skin touched my arm. Maybe that was the girl? There was three other slumping sounds, and then I was being dragged again. So they weren't being so nice. As soon as my arms and legs were dropped, there was a metal slam, and I was alone.

I risked opening my eyes just a little, and my eyes met a grey tiled room. The door had rivets up its sides, the only detail in the otherwise plain room. There was nothing in here except for a chair in the corner and a table in the middle. The room was quite large, and although it was barren, and there was no way of escape, not prison cell like. Though I'm sure that's what it was.

After a couple minutes there was a bang, then a shuffle, then another bang. Next to me was now two slices of bread, a banana and a water bottle. I used every ounce of energy I still had left and fumbled to grab the bread. This proved difficult, as I noticed my hand had swollen a little, and I couldn't move my fingers properly. As soon as I had it in my mouth, the pain in my stomach grew rapidly, and I wanted to cry out. The bread was soon finished, as was the banana (it was torture trying to open and peel the thing) The water had a flip-up cape, so I used my teeth to open it, untrusting of my fingers, in case any was spilled. I didn't drink all of the water at once, and it was difficult to swallow while lying on the floor, so I hoisted myself gently into a sitting position, and slid along to the wall for support.

Then I began to cry.

Why was I crying anyway? I didn't remember anything that I could miss, or any home to feel homesick for, or any people whose words could comfort me. Maybe that was why I was crying. I was alone, for the first time in my memory. I was alone, and my stomach was agony. Maybe I should have gone slower. I was in a hopeless position, and I had soiled myself. How could this get any worse? Every part of my body hurt. There was no way out now – I was too weak to use an escape root if there was one. The only way out was that door, and it was lo-

Was it locked?

I pulled myself along the floor, it was a good thing it was so smooth or it would have been impossible. As I reached the door, I held my hands up, but I was too small. I would have to stand. Could I? I put both hands on the floor on each side of my thighs, and heaved, but I could only lift myself a few inches up. I sat on my painful feet, and then reached as high as I could. No use – I was still a couple centimetres too short. I held the rivets with one hand's fingers and kept on hand on the floor. As I rose upwards, my hand reached the handle, and I tried to grasp it. The weight of my body pulled it down, and pushed open the door.

Open? This wasn't right. What kind of prison cell isn't locked? I thought, as I lay face-down on the floor, after having fallen through the doorway.

I moved my head up so that my nose wasn't pushed against the floor, and saw two feet in pink sandals in front of me. They weren't very nice feet, either – very wrinkled and overly tanned.

'What are you doing? Trying to get to me faster? Well I don't blame you! We are going to have so much fun together! Now if you could just prop yourself up so that I can lift you onto the table here…' What was she going on about? More importantly, what kind of a prison was this?! And who the hell was she? Nevertheless, I tried to sit up by rolling over first, but once I was on my back I could get no further. 'Do you want some help, sugar?' She lifted me up with her hand underneath my head and her other pulling my arm. Once I was sitting up, she grabbed both my wrists and pulled me to my feet, but I couldn't hold my own weight, and nearly crumpled back down onto the floor. She held me tight by my waist, fingernails digging into my side like she was trying to spear me through to cook on an open fire – like a sausage or something. She guided me to the table, and lay me down on it.

She then began to take off my clothes.

'Wh-what are y-you do-ing?' I rasped, as her fingers nimbly removed my jeans, lifting my bottom up to do so with frightening ease. I was now terrified – what was she going to do to me? What was happening to the others? The more beautiful ones? What was happening to the little girl?

Now, now. Clam down, sugar. We're just getting started. You've got a long night ahead of you.'

**Authors notes:**

**soooo? what do you think? leave me a review please!**

**this is a cliffhanger that I wasn't so excited to write. It sounds really dirty, and what clara is thinking is that this might turn really dirty. I am so glad that i can finally write this story while the girls are out of transportation. It was becoming really dull to write and i'm sure really boring to read after a while. Things are picking up in the story, and i hope you've all noted how clara's memory is slowly deteriorating. **

**Please tell me what you think - criticism is welcomed as long as its not 'your story's shit bye'. That's just mean. If you have any constructive criticism i would like to kiss you, because i get quite a few reads but only 2 reviews so far - come on guys!**

**songs listened to while writing: My Chemical Romance: the entire danger days album, Muse: Invincible**

_review me... __R__eview__ME... REVIEW ME...!_

**My story just spoke to you - you should listen.**


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

**_"If you dont know learn how to be scared, you'll never really learn how to be brave." _**

**― Simon Holt, The Devouring**

The next few hours consisted of a lot of water. The only problem I could see was that I wasn't drinking it, because the pink woman (who I could now see properly) was using gallons of the liquid to hose, scrub and rub me down. It came out quite filthy when she went to throw it down a large sink in the corner of the room, surrounded by old, chipped tiles. I suppose that this was to be expected; I had been in a filthy truck, then run around a forest and been dragged along through mud and dead leaves. There were still a few in my hair, and the woman went 'tut, tut. What were you thinking?' or 'now, really? Another?' at each one she plucked out.

First she turned on a tap that made water fall from a lime-scale encrusted shower head over me. She moved it along up my naked body, and as it went over my face I opened my mouth, just to get as much water as possible to drink. Maybe it was really dirty, but why would you wash someone with dirty water? It was hard to swallow lying down, so I tilted my head up, and just as I did so there came a 'No, no, no! I don't want you to see until we're finished!'. She seemed way too excited about this to me. Why was she doing this? Why not just shove me in a shower and have done with me? It would save effort.

Once the stream tumbling down upon me had left a part of my body, she proceeded to rub me with a cloth that smelt funny. It was very strong, so that I could even smell it when she first began to lather it over me. It smelt too sweet to be real, and was unlike anything I'd ever smelt before, I wasn't sure I liked it.

As this pattern of water, rub, water continued, I began to look at the women some more. Her hair was styled in tight curls, some of which were bright pink, and the rest white, like she had completely white hair, and then went outside and it was raining, and the raindrops were pink. The hairdo was so stiff that even when she sneezed (which was frequently – maybe she was allergic to the smelly stuff?) it didn't even move a millimetre. Her face was rough and bumpy, but it looked like she had tried to smooth it out with something. She had so much make up on her face she might have tried to paint it on like icing on a cake, and her lips matched the bubble-gum-pink colour of her sandals and the raindrops in her hair. She was tanned, and her thick eyelashes could have reached me from a mile away. He hands were cold to begin with, and then warmed up as she continued to use the hot water. She even asked me if it was too hot, which I denied, even though it was a little.

Once I was clean, she proceeded to scrub me down with more smelly cream, and used a white, rough stone on my arms and legs that left my skin feeling raw. Then more cream, on orange bottle this time, and rubbed it all over me. Everywhere. It felt weird when she touched my breasts, but it wasn't for long, and she didn't make me want to say 'Oi! Cut it out!' or anything; it felt strangely normal – well, not normal… but… yeah. The next thing she did to me was really painful. She didn't warn me first time. She took out a pink strip of something and placed it on my leg, it was hot – not as hot as the water was but still flipping hot. She pressed down on the paper that covered it, and then tore it off. I wasn't expecting it, and so when it came off so quickly my eyes began to water, but it wore off quickly.

The legs weren't the worst bit, she did that to. Another place hurt ten billion times worse.

When my body was finally clean and hair free, she moved onto my hair. Was she going to get rid of that too? I hoped not!

All of a sudden she brought out another bottle. Did she have these all hidden in her clothes or something? She placed it to the right of my head, and then turned back on the water. After pulling the hairband out of it, so that it was loose, she began to direct the water over my hair, making my head feel tingly as the water ran down the strands. Then, with a squirting noise, she rubbed the cold contents of another bottle into my head. Her finger felt soothing as she made tiny swirls, her fingernails sometimes catching me, only for her to say 'Oh, I'm sorry, sweetie.' Once she stopped, she ran the water through it, and then, with the contents of another bottle, she combed her fingers through it, and rinsed that off too.

Why was she being so kind? After the experience of the vans and how we were fed, how we escaped, then caught – why were they being so nice now? Were they treating the others the same? Every stroke felt so relaxing and I felt as if my mind was slowly being soothed into nothingness; that after a while the past few days would simply cease to exist.

Once all of the goop was washed out of my hair, she took out an L shaped, round thing with a long black string coming from the end, and a nozzle on the other. She seemed to have procured the thing from thin air! 'what's that?' I said to myself, only then realising I had said it aloud

'It's a Hairdryer, sweetie.' She answered, 'Now tilt your head up, please.' I did as she asked, and tilted my head so that my chin touched bone in the dip of my collar bone. She flipped my hair around, and made a small click on the new pink thing in her hand, and suddenly it made a loud noise, that sounded as if the thing was screaming breathily. There was now large amounts of air coming from its mouth, blowing my hair in all directions, whipping my face occasionally. I didn't like it here. There were no real answers. I can see that this hairdryer does dry hair, but what is it really? Its name is just a description of what it does – but how does it do that? How does the air come out? This woman, who was she? What was her name? Why was she doing this? Where are the others? This woman's hands that rubbed over my bare flesh were not kind, they were false. These were hands that were not moving out of morality, why should they? No, they were moving out of purpose. She had to do this. This was an organised thing. So who was organising it? Why?

What who why why _why __**why!?**_

All these questions that have no answers yet, and I was scared. I was scared because I didn't know – Fear is knowledge of the unknown, and fear can only be dispelled once the unknown becomes known.

But I didn't squirm, or cry, or even flinch.

Later, once I had been dried off, had paint lacquered over my face, and been given new set of clothes to wear, I was taken by the woman out of the cell. My back hurt from the long time I had been lying flat on the hard metal table, and my legs felt weak from lack of use. My new outfit was comprised of little actual fabric, which did nothing to ease my mind as I was marched through a long, grey tiled corridor. There was a cold breeze, too consistent not to be artificial, and the skin on my arms tingled as goose-bumps appeared as it whooshed through the ceramic tunnel, nevertheless it made me feel slightly less dizzy from the lack of sustenance from the past days. I hugged what fabric I had over my arms more, but the thin chiffon had next to no effect. The whole thing was blue and white, with a skirt falling midway on my thighs and a matching off-shoulder floaty sleeves (spaghetti straps holding it on at my shoulders). A cape of sorts came down from the back of this, which was what I was using to cover myself as much as possible, though this material was still not working it did hide me from the world a bit. Although there was no one else in this corridor, and no windows, I felt an eerie sense of being judged. Maybe it was the fact that I was cold and had more skin showing than not, but still I didn't like it. I suppose it's called shyness, but how can you possibly tell anyone you were shy when a stranger had just scrubbed down your naked body for the past- the past what?

There were no windows.

It can't have been more than a couple hours, right? When I was pulled out of the van it was daylight, but it was extremely hot. The middle of the day then. So it must just be around two or three in the afternoon… right? Yeah.

We were nearing the end of the corridor now, the light at the end brightest there, and illuminating the entire corridor all the way down, the intensity of the light fading gradually behind us; the grey, chipped, flaky tiles reflected some light, until there were small spots in places on the walls where the light had been just at the right angle. When we finally reached the very end, I was faced with a large white room, with a metal door on the opposite side, and on the same wall, a mirror. I was guided by the woman that had washed me to the edge of the room, transfixed by my reflection. I looked unreal. Like I had been stripped of almost every inch of myself, and left with the colour blue. My favourite. Had they known? Or had they just decided that's what I would have? My hair was nothing like what it was in the van: a pony tail, dirty with bracken and leaves; now it was like a veil of brown, flowing delicately to the small of my back.

But why walk me all the way here just to show me my reflection? I turned my head ninety degrees to the left, and my eyes widened in shock. Beside me stood my fellow prisoners, all dressed up and clean. All in different colours. Directly next to me was the girl, in a purple dress reminiscent of a little princess, very pretty and cute, the purple and yellow contrasting with her dark skin. Next was Ana, in apple green and a cape like me, but slightly thicker fabric, it seemed. Then Blue, in black and red, though I couldn't see what she was really wearing past Ana and the girl. Finally Blondie stood at the end, in orange. Inspiration probably taken from her orange dress from before. The question still stood though.

Why walk us all here?

My hands shook from fear. Fear from what we were lined up for. For all I knew we could be lined up for our execution. I could see it. We've all been dolled up for a poetic punishment. Ha ha.

I stared, alert, at the mirror in front of us all. It stretched all the way from just about half a meter away from the adjacent wall to my right, to the opposite wall on Blondie's left, making it probably close to five meters in length. The room was silent, save for breathing. The whispers they made getting louder very gradually, as all of our anxiousness rose up in our lungs. Next to me I could hear the Girl's getting faster more quickly. I looked down to her, and in noticing this she looked up at me. The terror in her eyes was almost as visible as the tears welling up, threatening to spill over, and she had faint bruises on her arms. The fact that there was a little girl in the same room as me, probably more than twice as scared as me (and I was flippin' terrified) jolted me. This was no longer about what might happen to me, but what might happen to her. What might happen to any of the others.

It was similar, in a way, to what had happened before on that dusty, abandoned roadside. But that felt like years ago, when I was alone. Ana had been there. I had had silent conversations with her. But they were short, and though they were between us two, not anything to do with ourselves, rather the predicament we had found ourselves in and how we planned to tackle it. Literally in her case more than mine.

I held out my hand ever so slightly to the girl. I wasn't sure why I did it at first, but as her fingers were lifted slowly and tentatively up to my palm, and then quickly squeezed it tight, I realised that I wanted to be there for her. And that I would always be from then on. Probably even from before that and I just didn't realise quite how much. And the strength of her fingers surprised me a little, but she was very frightened, and I was the thing she had to hold on to now, in case she fell.

And she did the same for me.

Still holding her fingers, I looked back up to the mirror. I could see that behind me were all the people that must have tended to the others, as well as Pink Lady. I didn't know who did which though. Only one of them was a man, and they all seemed a kookily-dressed as pink lady. Everything was bright and everything was old-looking: like the clothes were either hand-me-downs from parents or just made a few decades ago. The man was wearing bright apple green, brought out by his extremely dark skin. The whites of his eyes seemed brighter than anyone I'd ever seen in contrast to his skin, with black centres. The woman closest to me had red hair so bright it rivalled Ana's, She was in purple and blue. The others were not so clear as they were all shuffled round a corner nearer to the door. I could see yellows and reds, though.

One minute they were all stood round the corner, the next they all burst into smiles and scurried towards their respective girls. Pink lady grabbed the top of my arm, pinching me with her long talons, and proceeded to pull me quickly out of the room. It should be noted that I had not eaten properly at all, and before that had not eaten for a fair few days. I almost fell over – the sudden movement made me dizzy and uncoordinated.

We were all led down the corridor: me in front. The tiles began to get less and less chipped and cracked the further we went, until we reached a three way split in the road. It was like someone pulled it apart using their fingernails, and each side was a clone of the other, like DNA that shall soon be replicated. I hesitated, and held up the parade. Pink lady jabbed me with her talon and I was directed to the left, but in my hesitation (and curiosity as to what was down each of the different tunnels), I looked back behind me, and saw that the girl was being directed in the same direction as I, however the others were all being prodded and pinched and pushed down the others; Blondie and Blue down the one furthest to the left, Ana down the middle (the next to my right). I didn't have long though, before I was forcibly turned and guided further forward.

Once I, Pink Lady, the Girl, and her keeper had been walking for many minutes, we reached a doorway, with light choking through at the hinges and cracks between the frame and panels. The door itself looked like it had taken a little bashing, however other than that it was in fairly good condition. It was undoubtedly old and was not airtight or indeed, lighttight, and some paint was peeling a little, but the handle was well polished. Strangely well-polished, actually, compared to the tiled that were on the walls (still considerable cracked and grey)

The thought that had been creeping up on me this whole time finally shone with blinding colour and luminosity

What had happened to us was not unusual here.

The door handle was not polished by cloth and _Brasso_; the door handle had been polished by continual use.

What had happened in the past few days was organised. It was practised. It was terrifying. And I was left with even more questions than ever. On top of my first three (all of which were cumbersome to call to mind), were new questions that were much more immediate and recent. Why were we put in an empty room with a single large mirror? Why had we been separated? Where did the other corridors lead? But most of all:

What would meet me on the other side of that door?

**Authors notes:**

I finally updated! Sorry for being so late, GCSEs began and finished, and this chapter hold many more clues that I had to incorporate into the chapter that were well hidden to anybody but someone with a brain like mine… so be thankful you might not be able to see them all. Maybe you will once the story in in full swing (not far off!). When you do, there is no need to seek medical attention, but you may want to rinse thoroughly with cold water. ;) Thank you for reading and that you to those beautiful reviewers – you were what egged me on to complete this chapter! I 3 you all!

Em xxx


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